


Competition

by MadamRoyale



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRoyale/pseuds/MadamRoyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael loses a bet with Ryan and is forced to where Ryan's merchandise for a week. Ryan really likes that idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turningterrific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningterrific/gifts).



> This is for the very lovely turningterrific. During the end of my quarter, she helped me out of a major bind regarding one of my assignments. For her kindness, I told her I would write a fic. The story was her idea, I just filled in the blanks. Also, the Ravens and Vikings did not play each other this past season, I made that up. They did play in the 2009-2010 season however, so that is true. I hope you enjoy. Comments always appreciated and loved.

It was Michael who suggested it first.

Ryan assumed he heard wrong. I mean why would Michael, who suffered the most from that day, suggest a possible sequel? The images flashed quickly through Ryan’s mind of that day in October 2009. It was the last time the Minnesota Vikings and Baltimore Ravens, Ryan and Michael’s respective favorite football teams, had played against one another. They had spent most of that year challenging each to ridiculous competitions. Who could chug a beer faster? Who can eat the most Big Macs? How long could either jack off while watching porn and not come? Ryan won that but only because he started to whisper all the debauched things he wanted to do to Michael. It was a dirty win.

Sometimes they bet money but lately it all about the consequences to losing. Both relished in the competition more if defeat brought with it a heaping side humiliation. So when their favorite sports teams just so happened to play against each other, the situation was ripe for the most drastic suggestions yet. If the Ravens won, Ryan would have to shave his head bald. At the time, Ryan had a crown of thick, curly hair and the idea of walking around like a half-Cuban Mr. Clean was unappealing at best. However, if the Vikings claimed victory, Michael would have to run down a random, Baltimore street – naked.

Ryan could still picture the look on Michael’s face as the final score flashed on the screen. The Ravens lost which meant Baltimore would be getting an eyeful of their favorite son. What Michael didn’t know, as he slid into the passenger seat of his car that Ryan was now driving, was the “random” street selected by Ryan also happened to be the same, quiet neighborhood where Debbie Phelps lived. Ryan forced Michael to close his eyes during the short ride to Debbie’s street. It only took Michael a few moments to recognize their location as Ryan parked on the edge of the block.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way. I clearly said random and you agreed. This is a random street.”

“Do you know what random means, asshole? It means like at random or randomly. Not on purpose!”

“The longer you talk, the longer we’ll be here.”

“Fine! …fucking hate the fucking Ravens. No fucking defense…”

Michael quickly disrobed in the cool, October air. The bet was for him to jog up and down the block while Ryan followed slowly behind in the car. Michael began what was sure to be the longest run of his life. Ryan couldn’t control his laughter as he watched Michael’s naked ass bounce. It was also a rather stimulating sight. As Michael reached the end of the block and was about to turn around, red and blue flashing lights descended upon him.

Ryan quickly slammed on his brakes as the police cruiser pulled to the side of the road, blocking Michael’s path. An officer quickly got out of the car and flashed a light in Michael’s face.

“Jesus Christ! Michael, what the hell are you doing? Have you been drinking?”

“Um, earlier in the evening. Officer Finley. But I’m sober and have not been driving.”

“Uh-huh. Where are your pants?”

“In the car, sir.”

Officer Finley turned his attention to Ryan.

“Son, do you want to turn off the vehicle and come out? And bring Michael his pants.”

Ryan did as he was told and Michael quickly put on his pants, trying to ignore the various people now looking out their windows onto the scene.

“Boys, I think we should have a word with Debbie about this. Don’t you think?”

Ryan and Michael silently nodded and made their way to the back of the cruiser. Officer Finley drove the half block, with lights still flashing, and pulled into Debbie Phelps’ driveway. He got out of the car and made his way to the front door.

“Dude, you know him?”

“Yeah. Officer Finley was the D.A.R.E. cop at my elementary school. He’s now at my mom’s school and I forgot patrols this area.”

“Does every fucking person in Baltimore know your ass?”

“I could say the same thing about Gainesville, fucker.”

The two watched as Debbie, in her pajamas and bath robe, answered the door. They could feel her piercing gaze as the Officer clued her in to what her son and his friend had been up to. Officer Finley went back to the cruiser and opened the door. Ryan and Michael slinked out and slowly made their way to a very disappointed Debbie Phelps.

“Both of you inside. Now.”

They sat on the couch suddenly feeling like insolent children having been sent to the Principal’s office. Ryan tried to take the blame, explaining the bet and how Michael had been unaware of where Ryan had driven him. Michael tried to protect Ryan, stating he ultimately decided to go through with it. Both endured long lectures from Debbie  
and Officer Finley, who agreed to let the matter slide seeing as no alcohol was involved but “only stupidity”. In the end, Ryan and Michael had to drive straight back to Michael’s place and “reflect on their decisions in life”. It was a horrible experience for both of them.

Now, three years later after learning the Ravens and Vikings will play each other again, comes Michael seriously suggesting another bet.

“Mikey, do you not remember what happened last time?”

“Of course I do. But come on, these guys barely play. We should make it more interesting.”

“No. I don’t trust either one of us. Someone will end up bald or naked. I can just tell.”

“Fuck you, man. We agree right off the bat to not make the losing party do something super embarrassing. Like, okay, you know how like mayors from cities who are facing each other in the World Series or Super Bowl do like a fun bet? Usually the mayor from the losing city has to like to wear the jersey of the opposing team. We should do something like that. Like if the Ravens win, you wear a jersey and have to post a picture on Twitter or some shit. Everyone keeps their hair and clothes on.”

It wasn’t a bad plan. The Twitter angle made it better too. There were rumors circulating that Ryan and Michael were no longer the brostastic bros they had once been. Some of that had been true. Michael had decided to get himself a girlfriend. Ryan had decided he was sick of playing second fiddle to Michael. Words had been said and cell phones remained free of texted rap lyrics. After some serious soul searching from both parties, a reconciliation been had made. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to tell the world “relax, Michael and Ryan are still strong like wool.” Before Ryan agreed though, he decided to make one amendment.

“Alright, I can agree to this. However, if the Vikings win then you have to wear a different one of my shirts for five straight days.”

“Your shirts? Like stuff you wear?”

“No, dude. My merch.”

“Uh-uh. I’m not wearing your megalomania t-shirts!”

“Megal-what!?!”

“Hilary got me a word of the day calendar. The point is no.”

“Hey, this was your stupid idea. And it would really fucking funny! And what are you scared your precious Ravens are going to get fucked again?”

“Fine. I’ll do it. Bring it on, bitch.”

The Ravens lost 28-10. Fucking defense.

Ryan ran to his spare bedroom where he kept a few boxes of his merchandise. He went through and grabbed various designs, some shirts with just his name and others with “Jeah” written on them. Finally, he came to the one shirt that Michael had to wear first. The next day, he overnighted a box of the shirts straight to Baltimore, a smug smile never leaving his face.

On Wednesday of that week, Ryan finally received a text message from Michael, who hadn’t spoken to him since the Ravens lost that Sunday. Ryan knew he needed a few days to sulk.

[M Peezy 2:43 PM]

i posted a picture on twitter. still hate u.

Ryan tapped his Twitter icon and there was Michael’s tweet.

Lost bet to @ryanlochte over Ravens game. Time to pay up. #noweeee

Attached to the tweet was a picture of Michael, wearing a black t-shirt with the words Listen to Ryan Lochte written across. Michael was also sporting a pair of black rimmed glasses sans lens and dark denim jeans. He hands were in his pockets and he gave the camera a half smile. Ryan let out a low, appreciative breath as Michael was certainly looking all sorts of good. But what was really making Ryan’s pulse quicken was Michael wearing his shirt. He thought of Michael’s head thrown back only wearing the shirt while Ryan was three fingers deep inside of him. He would tell Michael to listen to his commands on  
when he could climax. The fantasy made Ryan instantly hard.

After completing afternoon practice and grabbing dinner, Ryan was sitting on his couch, flipping through channels. Devon was out for the night and Ryan was too tired for an appearance at the Grog. So it was a much needed boys night with him and Carter. As he got interested in an episode of How Its Made, his phone went off alerting him to a new text.

[M Peezy 7:18 PM]

i took some more pictures. wanna see?

[Ryan 7:19 PM]

sure

[M Peezy 7:21 PM]

Photo Attached

Ryan waited for the picture to download and was greeted with the sight of Michael’s chest, still covered in the Listen to Ryan Lochte t-shirt, stroking his hard cock. Before he could fully comprehend the photo, Michael sent another text message.

[M Peezy 7:22 PM]

i dont think i should tweet that one.

[Ryan 7:22 PM]

me neither. fuck. baby, i want you so bad right now.

[M Peezy 7:23 PM]

yeah? so bad you would do nething for me to be there?

[Ryan 7:24 PM]

yeah. been hard for u all day

Ryan's phone remained silent for the next 20 minutes. He assumed Michael had to take a phone call and decided to take an extra long shower that night. A knock on the door pulled Ryan's thoughts away from his full cock. Arching an eyebrow, he walked to the front door wondering who would be outside at this hour. He looked back as Carter slumbered away on the couch, completely at ease with Ryan defending himself if it happened to be some crazed fan. Man's best friend indeed. Ryan swung the door open and low and behold, Michael Phelps.

"Doggy, Florida is truly the land God forgot. Its humid as fuck in November!"

Michael walked into the house and deposited his duffle bag on the floor next to a stunned Ryan. He shut the door behind him and was about to further comment on his dislike of Florida's weather when Ryan pushed him into the door and pressed his mouth hard against Michael's. Their tongues found each other which only deepened the frantic kiss. Ryan was the first to pull away, a bit desperate for air.

"Hi."

"Hi back."

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you. Perks of retirement."

Michael moved his hand and began to palm Ryan through his jeans. The movement caused a small moan to escape from Ryan's mouth as he rested his forehead against Michael's shoulder.

"You weren't lying."

"Your pictures got me this way. I didn't realize how fucking sexy it would seeing you in one of my shirts."

"Oh really? Good thing I came prepared."

Michael, who was wearing a purple, button-down flannel shirt, began to pop open the buttons to reveal the Listen to Ryan Lochte t-shirt that was hiding underneath. That's all it took.

Ryan pulled Michael toward his bedroom and shut the door. He pushed Michael unto the bed and began removing clothing from both of them, making sure not to touch Michael's shirt. Michael's cock bobbed freely as Ryan leaned over and took Michael into his mouth. A loud sigh filled the air as Ryan's flattened tongue lathed attention on the underside of Michael's prick. He hollowed his cheeks, creating an increase suction motion as he head moved along. Michael roughly shoved his hands through Ryan's hair, pressing him down further onto his cock. Ryan placed one hand on the base of Michael's cock and moved it in time with his mouth. His other hand pressed firmly on Michael's hip, trying to keep it in place. He lifted his eyes to take in the scene. Michael, wearing nothing but his t-shirt, moaning like a whore. Ryan almost came right there.

Ryan removed his mouth away for a moment and reached over Michael's body into the nightstand's drawer. He located the bottle and poured the liquid over his fingers. Firmly, Ryan's finger disappeared inside Michael as his mouth returned to its previous work. A second finger was added and Michael dug his heels into the mattress. He grabbed onto the sheets, twisting them roughly as strangled noises escaped from his wide-open mouth. When Ryan felt Michael was prepped, he crawled back up Michael's body and attacked his mouth in a searing kiss. He rolled Michael on top of him, grabbing and massaging the other man's ass. Michael knew what he was expected to do.

He pulled himself away from Ryan's mouth and positioned himself over Ryan's cock. Slowly, he inched himself downward, enjoying both the pleasure and painful burn of being stretched. After a few moments, Ryan was completely encased inside of Michael, who quite enjoyed the fullness. Michael went to reach for the hem of the shirt still on his body when Ryan stopped him. 

"No, leave it on. You look so fucking hot."

Michael arched an eyebrow and began to thrust himself. Ryan matched his motion, eyes half-lidded, as he sealed the sight of Michael moving wildly above him in his shirt into his memory. The sounds of skin slapping together punctured by heady moans loudly panged around the room. Ryan began to quickly stroke Michael's cock, hoping the motion to send him over the edge. 

"Come on baby, that's it..." Ryan panted between breaths. 

Michael threw his head back and with a strong cry, came over Ryan's stomach. Ryan followed shortly after and climaxed hard into Michael. 

Michael fell forward, trying to refill his lungs with air. Ryan moved his hand up and down Michael's back as he struggled to find composure. Suddenly, it was Michael who broke the stilled silence of their recovery.

"I have four more shirts I have to wear."

Ryan laughed. Best bet ever.


End file.
